


Couches

by WriteAndRead



Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Gen, Locklyle (a little), Lucy caring for Lockwood, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:42:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22391218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriteAndRead/pseuds/WriteAndRead
Summary: Lockwood being quiet. You could say this happened as often as George denying a doughnut. So basically never.This leads to the conclusion that something must be wrong, if Lockwood is quiet for some time.
Relationships: Lucy Carlyle & Anthony Lockwood
Comments: 14
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first Lockwood & Co Fanfic. I wrote it nearly two years ago (April/May 2018)  
> It was orginal written in German and this is the English translation a friend of mine made (although she never read Lockwood & Co) so thank you! None of us is a native English speaker and it's not betaed but I hope there are not to many mistakes. 
> 
> Here's the German original:  
> https://www.fanfiktion.de/s/5c83ff040008efcd1c397413/1/Couches
> 
> Lockwood & Co and all it's characters belonge to Jonathan Stroud!

“Done!” Satisfied, I stuffed the empty bag of iron shavings, with which I just spread a line between the door frames, back into my jacket. As usual while waiting, this method was just a security measure to not be surprised by any visitors.

Afterwards, I went to the table in the kitchen in which we had established our provisional base and let myself fall on one of the four wooden chairs. Lockwood was sitting on the opposite of me. His feet including his shoes lay on the table; for a change, his nose was buried in the latest edition of _London Society_.

“And, Luce, heard any “strange noises” yet?” he wanted to know. His face seemed very pale in the weak twilight that was shining from outside through the window.

I shook my head. “Nothing. It`s still too early.” While I was pouring myself some tea and grabbed a biscuit, I recalled all the information we had about our operation.

Our client was a family of four. According to the mother, Mrs Rainst, her kids had always heard a quiet humming or whistling in the night. They all strongly believed that it was Mrs Rainst’ peaceful mother who, while cleaning up, had tripped over the vacuum cleaner and fallen very unluckily and who could not find peace because of her boundless obsessive tidiness.

It was a very banal and silly, but not impossible, theory. That was also why Lockwood and I had asked us why the family now wanted to get rid of the ghost so suddenly. The answer had been delivered by George just a moment after our laughing fit: strange noises. “Strange noises” that since a short time also didn’t let the adults sleep at night.

I know that it isn’t the adults’ fault if they do not really perceive paranormal activities. But such incomplete and unprecise descriptions were always a disadvantage. “Strange noises” could be everything. An innocuous Stone Knocker could appear, as well as a Wraith or a mouse. The latter wouldn’t be our problem and also the most pleasant option. But then we’d had come for nothing.

So two hours ago, we had checked our equipment multiple times and made our way to Marney Road 21. A neighbourhood whose front yards were cared for so fastidious, as if the local garden association would show up every moment to select the most beautiful one. Even if they would have to determine the winner by drawing lots.

In the underground I had even more realized how unnaturally peaceful Lockwood behaved. Neither had he been vocal about George’s dirty underwear on the banisters, nor had he been very euphoric when leaving the house.

Even now he was sitting there, unusual for him, without saying a word and flipping through the illustrated. His tea was standing on the table, untouched and the vapour was winding itself to the roof, similar to ghost fog.

Lost in my thoughts I wanted to take another biscuit before I remembered our rule. “Did you already take a biscuit?” I asked. Lockwood answered without looking up from the newspaper. “Take as many as you want. I’m not hungry.”

I couldn’t prevent myself from sceptically pulling my eyebrows together. Maybe I wouldn’t have done it if I knew why he wasn’t hungry. But we hadn’t eaten anything before our departure and Lockwood hadn’t eaten much for breakfast and lunch either.

But I didn’t question his behaviour and just took another biscuit.

“So, let’s go and look for these “strange noises” then. Maybe we’re lucky and will find the source in the very first room we look into.” He put on his “everything-will-be-fine”-smile, which seemed forced and looked more like some sort of “will-be-bad-but-yeah”-smile. Then he took a sip from his tea (that was obviously already cold, based on the look on his face) and his equipment and left the kitchen. Shaking my head, I followed him with my own equipment.

“Nothing. Did you discover something, Luce?” A long sigh came over Lockwood’s lips before he closed the door leading to the dining room.

“You could say so.” Still stunned, I stared into the living room which I had been checking. There, between two black leather sofas and a glass table, I could see a weak, near invisible figure. A quiet and comforting whistling could be heard in the room.

“Stop it!” I snarled at Lockwood when I realized that the sound came from him and not from our visitor. “I just wanted to underline the atmosphere!” he defended himself, pretending to be insulted, but then he kept quiet.

I, on the other side, closed my eyes and concentrated on my other senses. I could hear a sad humming, that, I was sure, did not come from Lockwood. Otherwise it was deadly silent in the room. “That has to be Mrs. Rainst’s mother,”he said, which had also been my presumption. “She doesn’t look very scary, apart from her dress. And that skirt…creepy.”

As I couldn’t see as much as him, I just nodded. But one thing was clear to me: that ghost wasn’t the source of these “strange noises”. “Should we still seal her up?” I asked him, without looking away from the figure. She hadn’t moved an inch and still stared sadly at the dusty surface of the glass table.

Lockwood traced his finger along the old dresser next to him and then looked at it in his flashlight’s narrow beam. “I think she’ll vanish by herself if they just clean very well. But as far as I know,” he cleaned his hand on his jacket, “is cleaning not a part of our service.” I had nothing to say against this statement.

Cautiously, we ascended the stairs to the first floor, step by step. We hadn’t noticed any paranormal activities in the ground floor, apart from Mrs. Rainst’s mother. Lockwood had noticed a Death Glow in the living room, but that had nearly completely faded away, so he had barely noticed it. According to him he had believed it to be a bleached part of the carpet. I too perceived a quiet humming or sighing when I passed the living room, but I was able to ignore it. A smirk let my mouth corners flip shortly. Nobody had probably ever had a ghost obsessed with cleaning.

We reached the first floor and looked around from our position. There were narrow corridors to our left and right. On the walls, there were several paintings whose motifs I couldn’t see because of the darkness. I doubted they were pretty.

“It has gotten really cold.” Lockwood turned up his jacket`s collar and pulled the piece of cloth more tightly around him. A look on my fluorescent thermometer revealed to me that the temperature really had dropped. It was still around twelve degrees (Celsius; 53°F) and that was why I didn’t really understand his reaction.

“Okay, now we’ll stay together. We’ll first enter the left corridor and then the right one. So, if you please?” Lockwood motioned to the entrance and put on an encouraging smile. But this time he couldn’t get me.

“No way! I was first the last time! And the time before that! You won’t get me this time!” I crossed my arms before my chest and turned my head away demonstratively.

After we had come back from our last case in Portland Row 35 I had said to myself that I won’t let him convince me to be the first to open a door of a haunted house if it wasn’t my turn to do so. His smile could be as charming as he wanted, but I would not give in.

“Well, I guess it’s my turn then.”

The hardly constructed façade of my decision crumbled all at once like a badly constructed wall. He yielded? Now? Just like this, without protesting or complaining? THAT was very strange! I couldn’t deny anymore that there was something wrong with him.


	2. Chapter 2

He opened the door with a quiet squealing, that made the atmosphere seem more ominous than it already was. The cold hit us like a gush of ice water. I flinched and from the corner of my eyes I could see Lockwood wrap his arms around his body.

“How many degrees?” he wanted to know. His breath formed small clouds and the glass of the window in front of us was covered in a layer of frost. “Four degrees. It’s just a third from outside,” I answered him after looking at the thermometer’s display. “It looks as if they had another visitor.” His voice sounded dull.

I also felt some first signs of a malaise: the onerous heaviness in my legs, the lack of courage and the dreariness that threatened to drag you down to the bottom of the sea like a very heavy weight and never let you go. I knew that these feelings could become stronger if I used my powers. To distract myself I examined the room we were in.

The room wasn’t very big and was decorated in crème-coloured ingrain wallpaper. A gigantic, overstuffed bookshelf covered the entire left wall. Mr Rainst probably was a biologist or something similar because most of the books were encyclopaedias, lexica and biographies of popular scientists and discoverers. Several vases whose content should be thrown away stood on the shelfs, along with dusty souvenirs. The desk standing next to a small cupboard in the right corner of the room was so packed with paperwork that its surface could not be seen. Just like the chair and everything else in the room it was made of dark mahogany.

“Do you hear something?” Lockwood had come closer to the desk, his hand on his rapier handle. Maybe it was because of the weak light or maybe I was wrong, but it seemed as if he was shuddering.

I closed my eyes for a short time to concentrate but it was still silent. When Lockwood pulled some pieces out of a pile to examine them with his flashlight, only a quiet rustling could be heard. “ _Hydrogen Bridge Bonds as seen on the molecular level_. Do you think that’s important for us?” I knew it was just a rhetorical question, which was also why I didn’t wait for his answer and instead went into the middle of the room.

There was something in this room, I could feel that. But apart from signs of malaise and ice breath, we hadn’t perceived any other signs of a manifestation. Which wasn’t an advantage. At least I didn’t hear something, except Lockwood who was leaning over a few papers. We had come closer to the source of those “strange noises” but that was about everything. 

I thought a while for myself. The sealing of a visitor sometimes seemed like a puzzle or the case of a crime novel. A lot of small pieces that only if put together led to a solution.

“Mrs Rainst said that she only lately started to hear those noises. Maybe they come from a book or one of the souvenirs,” I shared my thoughts with him. Lockwood only responded with a weak “Mhm”, and then I noticed a movement in the corner of my eyes. 

Quickly I turned my head around and was able to duck away in the right moment. A loud smack, followed by a dull rumble and _Mimikry and Mimese- Fascinations of Nature_ landed on the parquet floor.

That was the final hint that there was something going on.

The “strange noises” have only indirectly been caused by a visitor. It was all objects that were moved by the power of a poltergeist.

As this kind of visitors didn’t have a real form of appearance, you only realized their existence once they threw objects at you. Just like on this evening.

Poltergeist might be blind, but can nonetheless locate a person based on very quiet noises they made or emotions they expressed like angst or anger. Apart from that we were in a room with many books that together put around three tons on a scale. And how many studies had (hopefully) shown, you didn’t learn more things about a scientist just by smacking their biography against your forehead.

But the biggest problem with a poltergeist was its source. Because of a missing manifestation it’s very hard to determine its location and you had to be cautious because of flying things like a pencil or a table.

After I recovered from my shock, I went a few steps backwards to the wall behind me. I pressed my back against the cold wallpaper to not be attacked from a blind spot. I quickly grabbed my flashlight and opened the aperture. My powers weren’t very helpful in this moment.

The big flash of light shined on the commode in front of me, enlightening book spines and a miniature Eiffel Tower that came flying at me like an arrow and was stuck in the wall just inches from my left ear.

I suddenly heard a quiet moaning. I automatically turned my head around to see Lockwood’s legs shuddering before he collapsed on the floor with a dull rumble and staying like this without moving.

At first, I couldn’t move. I only stood where I was, staring at his motionless body as if I had been caught in ghost-lock. Then I saw his chest moving up and down. He was just unconscious.

Relieved, I started to breathe again which, as I now realized, I had stopped for a while. I began to move closer to him when the snow globes fell out of the cupboard and the light rattle of the bursting glass reminded me of my situation.

I could only go to him when I found the source and sealed it. The faster the better!

Trying to keep my cool, I examined the room and looked for suspicious objects or places but found nothing. “Shit!” I exclaimed and just in time moved away so that the _Encyclopaedia of the Nightshade Vegetables_ missed me. But this led me to trip and I threatened to get to know the floor. I desperately rowed my arms in the air while I was falling onto my left side. Then my ankles hit a cupboard. The fingers of my left hand grasped the edge of the small cupboard and gave me enough power to stabilize myself.

Now I stood there, time seemed to have stopped for a moment, realizing my circus-like position. I didn’t dare to breathe. Only my tiptoes still were in contact with the ground. I held my right leg and one arm in the air while my other hand still grasped the small cupboard. In general I must have looked like a crooked jumping jack that was frozen in his movement.

Suddenly I was overcome by sounds and memories of the past. Weak outlines appeared before my eyes, getting clearer with time like a picture from a Polaroid camera.

Two middle-aged men in similar working clothes descended a stair. Together they carried a cupboard and argued loudly. They exchanged bad words and their voices got louder. The man on top suddenly let go of his part of the cupboard so that the other man lost his balance.

He stumbled down the stairs backwards and screamed one last time before the cupboard smashed his head and burying him underneath it.

As unexpected as this memory had come it vanished. As if someone had made a bubble burst it dissolved, with me still standing in the office and the miniature Eiffel Tower still stuck in the wall like an arrow used to play dart with. Lockwood’s position hadn’t changed either. The flower vase including its soon-to-be-waste content was hovering a few inches from its original location.

I knew that the visitor was only waiting for me to make a sound or have a change of emotion. Then he would throw it at me, along with Darwin’s evolutionary theory. At least I had found out its source, solving the major problem. Next up were sealing it and of course Lockwood.

Very slowly, I put my leg down and put my hand into one of my jacket’s pockets, more precisely the one with the silver net. At the same time I tried to be as relaxed as possible. The fingers of my hand rummaged through the content of this pocket.

I of course brought silver seals with me, just like I brought everything else with me and my habit of never emptying my pockets. I had to experience the disadvantages of this when I pulled out a bag of gummy bears.

My second try was more successful. A triumphant grin spread on my face. I ripped open the bag and threw the silver net (like I did many times before) onto the small cupboard to my left.

The flower vase still hovered for a few moments along with a few atlases (the ghost had apparently no intention of doing any harm to Darwin’s evolutionary theory), stacks of paper and the desk lamp in the air as if they were hanging from the roof from thin ropes. Then they fell onto the floor. The lamp and the vase burst into a thousand pieces while the vase contained old rotten water that was now forming a puddle on the floor. The last tension fell from me and I breathed relieved. I had done it.

The source was sealed and the ghost basically knocked out… just like Lockwood. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The background srory of the poltergeist probably isn't the best but hey, it's not the main point of this Fic and that's why I can live with it. I hope I got all the terms right. It's so hard to find the original ones. Otherwise pls correct me.


	3. Chapter 3

Three big steps were enough to go around half the desk to reach Lockwood. The way he laid there one could have thought that he was dead. He was snow-white and his body was shuddering; his breath was weak but rhythmically.

Why did he collapse at all? Did the poltergeist hit him with something? If so, then I hadn’t noticed and I couldn’t find any wounds when I knelt beside him.

“Lockwood?” No reaction. I grabbed his shoulders and shook him lightly. “Hey Lockwood! Wake up!”

A weak moan came over his lips he blinked a few times with his eyes, before he looked at me with glassy eyes. “L-Lucy?” he croaked hoarsely and heaved himself up slowly.

As soon as he was sitting straight he touched his forehead and the shaking got worse. He slowly slipped back so that he could lean against the desk and pulled his knees towards himself.

“Is everything okay?” I asked him worried. I had never seen him like that.

“I… No. Do you have something to drink?” he asked weakly. I nodded, grabbed my backpack to look for a bottle of water which I then gave him.

“What did actually happen? You suddenly collapsed!” I wanted to know after he had drunk a bit.

Lockwood’s eyes were shut and he breathed heavily. “I started to feel dizzy. The room is still spinning,” he mumbled. “Maybe it was because of your circulation,” I explained to him. “It’s no wonder, if you ask me. You haven’t eaten or drunk anything since breakfast.”

“Not hungry.”

“Are you feeling so bad that you can’t talk to me properly?” I couldn’t and didn’t want to leave out this comment. To see him like this hurt a lot. It didn’t fit him.

My words did something with him. Lockwood’s lips formed a dull grin. “I wasn’t hungry. Is that better?” “Much better,” I praised him.

“Did you find the source?”

“Yes,” I pointed to a small cupboard, “a mover was killed by this cupboard. The family had probably obtained it just recently.”

“Good.” Lockwood crossed his arms before his chest and tried to keep his body from shaking, without much success.

For a moment I watched him with a worried look, and then I sat down next to him and put my hand on his forehead. As expected it was very hot. He seemed surprised but didn’t resist against it.

“You have a fever. Why didn’t you tell us?” I asked him.

His expression became challenging like that of a small kid. “I’m not ill, just tired,” he stated. I laughed and sat down on the opposite of him. “Even a blind man would see that that is a lie.” I looked at him from head to toe with a penetrable look.

This didn’t seem very comfortable to him as he starred at his legs.

“A fever, chills, tiredness, lack of appetite, dizziness and maybe also other symptoms like a headache.” Lockwood shortly looked as if he wanted to protest but gave up quickly. He sighed and leaned his head against the desk. “

I guess I just have a cold then. It’s nothing serious. Give me a moment and we can go home.” “Tss. Just a cold. Really? Just moments ago you were feeling so bad that you collapsed and you’re pale enough to be a ghost yourself. You can be happy if you’ll only get a weak form of the flu,” I explained to him while looking for iron filings in my bag with which I could scatter a circle around the cupboard.

  


“Ready? Then let’s pack all our things and go. We can call Mrs Rainst later to tell her that someone’s gonna retrieve the cupboard later.” Lockwood had watched me from his halfway-opened eyes.

“If you say so,” I said and grabbed my bag. “How are you?” I was worried, but also a little annoyed by Lockwood. One usually didn’t collapse because of a flu. But he had neither had a rest for a while, nor had he eaten or drunk anything. It was no wonder that his circulation had a breakdown.

“Seriously Luce, you don’t have to worry. I’m not a small child you have to care for all day.” It was hard to believe the first sentence. He had been able to get up staggering, but he still had to support himself with his hand on the desk. His crooked smile didn’t make it any better.

It took us fifteen minutes to stuff all our equipment into our bags. I packed the last lamp in my bag while Lockwood was sitting on the kitchen table. His right elbow was on the table and his head lay in his hand. It seemed as if he would fall asleep every moment. I’d force him to his luck if he didn’t stay in bed over the next days. I should probably think about ways about how to do it. Maybe I should tell George to draw a circle around Lockwood’s bed with his dirty underwear. Or was that too much?

“Come on, you’re falling off the chair,” I sighed. Lockwood was obviously too tired to argue with me, so he just gave me an annoyed look.

  


“There you a… Look at you, man!” George’s greeting ended in an exclamation the moment he saw Lockwood. As usual he took his glasses off his nose and wiped them with the tip of his pyjamas. Afterwards he blinked a few times as if he wanted to check that he wasn’t dreaming or suffering from hallucinations.

“It would be great if you could please stop staring at us like a dead fish and let us in.” I smiled sugary sweet, but the sarcasm in my voice could not be overheard. I didn’t want to stand in front of the door anymore.

It rained heavily so it looked like someone had thrown us into a lake with our clothes on. Additionally it was very cold and windy. But opposed to Lockwood I must look like a model during a photo shoot.

His face was nearly colourless, he had crossed his arms before his chest and his shoulders were pulled up. He was still shuddering because of the cold and his teeth were clattering endlessly.

Still confused, George opened the door so we could enter.

I put our bags in a corner of the room. Lock wood stripped himself from his coat and his shoes and let them fall carelessly onto the floor. He then shuffled into the living room and from the corner of my eyes I saw how he got himself a blanket and laid down on the sofa.

“Did I miss something?” George stood next to me and looked at me with high expectations. I started to strip my clothes off and sighed loudly. “We got attacked by a poltergeist, met a visitor with obsessive tidiness and Lockwood collapsed, so everything is okay.”

“A ghost with obsessive tidiness?!” George’s eyes became very big and had this sparkle that could always be seen in his eyes when something interested him. I growled quietly. That was very typical of him. The behaviour of a visitor was the most important thing.

Our boss collapsing was an every-day-thing.

“But what did you say about Lockwood? He collapsed? Just like this?!” As I had to tell him all about our mission anyways I could also start now.

  


After a while George put his glasses in place again: „It’s time Lockwood got ill. He hasn’t been since we started working together.” Even if I wasn’t working for Lockwood & Co as long as he I had noticed that Lockwood didn’t get hit by illnesses.

“There is always a first time,” I said and followed George who made his way to the living room. There was Lockwood, lying on the sofa and covered by the blanket but he didn’t shudder less.

“You look really bad.” George’s malicious joy hadn’t fully disappeared but you could hear from his voice that he was somehow worried. But only somehow. Caring for other people wasn’t one of his strengths.

“Don’t be afraid, I won’t die that soon,” Lockwood mumbled and turned his back to him. Then he had to cough.

A cold? What was he talking about?! I thought but I didn’t express these thoughts out loud. But I couldn’t prevent a quiet, frowning snort. I got myself a cheese sandwich, which George had made as his own “reward” for his successful mission, and sat down on the second sofa.

  


“I’m going to sleep,” I informed George a quarter of an hour later while I stood up yawning. He put his comic strip next to him on the place I had just eaten at and looked at Lockwood and then at me. “Should we wake him up?”

I regarded my boss with a critical look as if he could vanish every moment. He had pulled the blanket to his chin but the fabric didn’t really cover him anymore as he had moved much before. Only half of his upper body was still covered.

“Let’s leave him alone,” I decided quickly and covered Lockwood with the blanket again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just can't help to let my favourite characters suffer. And there weren't any Lockwood & Co SickFics, sooooo....(Sorry not sorry Lockwood XD)


	4. Chapter 4

I was woken up the next day in a very brutal way by my alarm clock, which I hadn’t turned off. I moaned and felt for that troublemaker on my bedside table. Without success. In a coma-like way I got up and, through my half-opened eyes, discovered it next to a bedpost. I bent forward to have a look at the display of this noisy thing.

Eight o’clock. Maybe too late for people to get up on weekdays, but I had been busy with a poltergeist until 2a.m. I bravely suppressed my desire of just throwing that thing against the wall with all my strength. Alarm clocks weren’t cheap.

I was finally able to end this torture, but now I couldn’t sleep anymore. Everyone probably knew the reason why. It was this disgusting taste in your mouth you have when waking up. God, I hated it.

After a while I decided that just sitting around wasn’t very helpful. Disgruntled and still sleepy I swung my legs onto the floor. Another thing I hated: when you remove the warm blanket and get in touch with the air in the room.

Quietly, yes even silently, I descended the stairs to the ground floor. I didn’t want to wake George. He reacted more badly than I did when you woke him. Didn’t matter if on purpose or not. Luckily his sleep couldn’t be interrupted that easily, which was why I sometimes thought of him as a bear.

Hibernation and in a bad mood. Some bears are even cute, look at pandas in China, but George was more like a brown bear whose food had been stolen. Greediness-another similarity. But like already said he was sleeping and snoring so loudly that it seemed like a wonder that the house was still standing. Shaking my head I made my way to the kitchen.

I passed the floor and stopped when I heard a moan. Worried I sneaked into the living room, from where the sound had come.

Lockwood laid on the sofa, but didn’t look any better than yesterday. The opposite was rather the case: While he had stopped shuddering, his face was still chalky white. As the blanket covered only his legs I could see by his chest that he was breathing heavily. His mouth was a little bit open, his hair was sticking to his forehead.

In no way was he healthy.

As an agent I was used to never hesitating, so I also didn’t when I directly went to his side and put my hand on his forehead. Sudden heat reached my hand and I pulled it back. I had guessed that he had a fever but not that his temperature was that high.

He moaned. Again I didn’t hesitate and shook him.

“Hey, Lockwood, wake up!” “Hm?” His eyelids opened fluttering and he focussed on me with a glassy look before closing his eyes again.

“How are you?” I asked him worried, knowing he could hear me.

“Bad would be most accurate;” he mumbled and rolled on his back. “I think you’re right. A flu fits better than a cold.” He exhaled a cheerless laugh that ended in a cough.

“You’re a real wise guy, aren’t you?” I rolled my eyes. Lockwood grinned dully.

“Was that meant as sarcastic or ironic? I still don’t know the difference.”

My answer was that I punched his ribs. I didn`t care if he was ill or not. I was worried about him and everything he did was to say dumb things.

“Stop it’” he sighed and laid his left hand over his eyes. He breathed heavily and slowly got up, during which he became even paler. I carefully watched him.

“What are you doing?” I asked him while he stood up looking insecure.

“Going to have a shower. I need to get my head clear,” Lockwood said more to himself. Then he put one hand on his neck and turned his head with his face twisting. “I knew I should have got myself a pillow.”

“Should I get one for you?” I offered him, but he shook his head. “I think I can do it myself.” He made a step forward, but lost his balance immediately.

Luckily I stood right next to him and was able to catch him before he hit his head on the table.

I needed a moment to realize how it would look like to outsiders. Me in my pyjamas and Lockwood leaning against me with nearly all of his weight. Without thinking I had wrapped my arms around him. I could feel the blood rushing into my cheeks. But I was unable to move.

“Thanks.” Lockwood stood without help, a weak smile on his face. “If you could please let go of me so I can go into the bathroom…” My cheeks became more reddish, then I was finally able to dissolve this hug.

“Um… Yes… Sure. And I`ll make some tea. In the kitchen.” I turned on my heels, nervously kneading my hands so I didn`t have to look at him.

When arriving in the kitchen, I immediately closed the door and leaned against it. God! What happened with me? Why hadn’t I just caught him, put him on his feet again and at the end just berated him? No, instead I had stood there like a tomato befallen by ghost-lock (an awesome comparison, I know) with my boss in my arms.

_“Beurk! I think I’m gonna be sick!”_ A voice, followed by an exaggerated choking noise, let me flinch.

“What are you doing here?!” I screamed and pointed accusingly at the ghost jar on the kitchen table. My heart had just calmed down from the shock and was beating very fast. This TYPE 3 was by far the most annoying and intrusive visitor the world had ever seen.

_“You should rather ask that over-weighted hamster who carries me to places I don’t wanna be at! I’ve seen things whose sole account will disturb you forever.”_ “Don’t worry, I’m not interested.” I shrugged off. I didn’t want to know what George was doing with the ghost all the time.

The fog in the jar manifested into a very ugly grimace and understood my sentence as an invitation to talk about his “sufferings”. I ignored his jabbering and set up water for the tea.

_“But enough from me; let’s talk about Mister Lockwood, you and the last five minutes.”_

Only because of my fabulous reflexes was I able to catch my empty cup before it hit the ground and broke into many pieces.

_“Is there something I should know?”_ The face started to grin over-dimensionally. It could have been a rival to Lockwood had its teeth been white instead of green. My cheeks became reddish again but I tried to not let him notice it.

“Not that I know,” I hissed, turned my back to the jar and quickly stirred my tea. It didn’t bother me that half of its content splashed over the edge and onto the tray.

_“Are you really sure? You don’t keep something from me, or?!”_ “Yes, I do,” I said undisturbed, “And I already got me a shovel with which I could bury you any time.”

_“You’re lying. Because in reality, you could never imagine a life without me, the one and only TYPE 3.”_

I filled another cup with tea for Lockwood. “It could be, but I’m not lying when I tell George to resume and intensify his experiments with you.”

_“Y-You wouldn’t do that!”_ His grin disappeared and I took the two cups of tea and headed back to the living room.

I stayed for a moment at the kitchen table. I pressed my nose against the jar, with a triumphant smile on my face. “And if I did?” Our personal ghost dematerialized instead of giving an answer.

“That crazy puff of smoke, what is he imagining?!” Cursing, I sat on the sofa and sipped my tea from time to time. The skull was driving me nuts! If my thirty year old me looked like I escaped from a retirement home it would definitely be this ghost’s fault. He definitely wasn’t good for health! That’s why I didn’t care about any bad words I used during my rant.

“Stop swearing like this or I have to tell George to wash your mouth with soap.” Lockwood’s voice interrupted my thoughts. He sounded hoarsely, but the amused undertone was not to be overheard.

“He should rather keep the soap for himself, if he actually has some. That would surprise me;” I grumbled.

Lockwood smiled. He lazily shuffled to the sofa he had taken over. His hair was still wet in some places and his eyes still held a feverish shine, but he looked more awake than twenty minutes before. He wore a dark blue shirt and chilly black pants. A pillow was clamped under his arm.

“Just go to bed,” I advised him when he lay down again, pulling the blanket to his chin.

“I’m in command of this agency, the clients want to talk to me. I can’t just-“ he was interrupted by a coughing fit and sunk into his pillow afterwards, seemingly exhausted.

“I don’t think that anyone wants to talk to you now, judging by the way you sound,” I stated, but I didn’t hope for too much.

Lockwood was one of these people who thought that they never needed a break. And he could be more stubborn than a donkey. That’s why I didn’t try to convince him otherwise and just gave him his cup of tea, which he accepted with a weak “Thanks”.

George came out of his room half an hour later. As motivated as ever he went into the kitchen to make breakfast. Knowing that he only needed a few minutes to do so (if his pants didn’t slip down more than three times), I shut my book. At least I hadn’t gone to the library to read and had instead stayed in the living room.

Lockwood was still lying on the other piece of furniture. He hadn’t touched his tea and from the relaxed expression on his face and his calm breath I could see that he had fallen asleep again.

“Are you coming or should I eat all of the toast myself?” George sounded like he was in a really good mood, but I luckily knew how to deal with that. As I was very hungry I nearly ran into the kitchen.

_“Help, a ghost!”_

Alarmed I jumped from my chair and let my marmalade toast fall onto the floor which of course landed on its besmeared side. George was startled by my sudden movement.

_“All-clear. It’s only Lockwood.”_

Throwing a nasty glance at the ghost I picked my former breakfast up from the floor. I would never eat it. I didn’t remember ever cleaning the floor.

_“Why are you looking at me like this?! I make mistakes too, you know”_ , the skull complained.

In my thoughts I counted to ten. But somehow this method never did anything with me.

“What did he say?” Lockwood stood in the door frame and watched the silver jar where the plasma face pushed forward its bottom lip. “Not important”, I shrugged and picked up a cloth to remove the marmalade from the floor.

“You should eat too, and then go back to bed. You look like a walking dead body”; George expressed.

“Mhmm.” Lockwood not talking much was a sign for how ill he was. A little reluctant, he sat down at the table and took a slice of bread.

“So Lucy, do we both rather want to go to Miss Carswell whose grandchildren heard strange noises or to the Stoopers , whose garden is, according to the children, haunted by a mysterious creature?” George suddenly asked me while I was besmearing another slice of bread. It wasn’t very difficult for me to decide on that. I had had enough of strange noises. 

“To the Stoopers,” I answered in a tone that prevented any resistance.

“And what ab-“ Lockwood somehow felt betrayed and wanted to say something when he had to cough.

“What about you, you’re asking? Well, you stay here, of course!” I said a little amazed. How could he think that we would take him with us, being sick and everything? He still looked at me with an incomprehensible look while he was coughing.

“But-“ he croaked, but George immediately cut him off by placing a glass of water in front of him. “Don’t be so stubborn. You can’t even walk a few feet.”

I nodded in agreement. Lockwood sighed in defeat. “Well, I guess it’s solved then. George and I will go care for the visitor and you’ll stay here and become healthy again.”


	5. Chapter 5

It was 3 a.m. when I opened the door to Portland Row 35. George followed me with some distance. My mood had sunken to the bottom of the Mariane Trench. No, it wasn’t just my mood. I felt like I had just been diving. Well, I actually did, if not voluntarily.

The creepy creature that had been lingering in the Stoopers’ garden – of which all had blonde hair and blue eyes which made them seem like clones to me – had turned out to be an aggressive Dark Spectre. While my partner had spoiled their garden while looking for a forearm bone, I had been assigned the very honourable task of distracting the visitor. I had learned two things from this case: I’d neither get myself a dog (that liked digging a lot) the size of a Shetland pony nor would I buy a pool that was embedded into the earth.

Wet and freezing I dragged myself upstairs to my room where I got undressed, pulled something green and slimy out of my hair and had a hot shower. Afterwards I felt at least clean and I wasn’t freezing anymore.

I wish I had been investigating “strange noises” again.

  


I woke up.

I woke up way too early several minutes before six.

And I felt bad. Well, bad wasn’t the best word to describe it. I felt SUPER BAD.

I felt cold, my nose was stuffed and my head felt as if someone would bang a hammer against my forehead all the time. Well, these were the consequences of a nightly bath.

Shuddering I descended the stairs, covered my ears when I passed George’s room and after what seemed like eternity I entered the kitchen where I set up water for tea.

Armed with tissues and a cup of tea I wanted to go back to my room to spend the rest of my miserable life there. But my plan failed when I saw the staircase.

Had it always been that long? In that moment I didn’t think that I could gather enough power to climb up the stairs to my room. I turned around to go into the living room and lie down on the second sofa with a blanket and clattering teeth.

“You already woke up?” Right! Lockwood was still there, too.

“Morning,” I croaked. My throat felt as if it was made out of sandpaper.

Silence.

“I think I’m sick”, I added after a while.

“Guess who’s too.” He turned his sweated face to me and grinned dully.

Another chill fit let me shudder and I buried myself deeper into the blanket. “C-cold,” I mumbled into the fabric but he could still hear my words.

“I feel hot.”

“Yes, I already knew that you’re hot. That’s obvious.” My thoughts were flooding through my brain like thick syrup, which was why I didn’t think about what I told him.

“Thanks, you look good too.” Lockwood had starred at me for one second. Now he was grinning wider than ever. That was the moment I realized what I had told him. I blushed and was more awake than before. I abruptly got up and started gesticulating with my hands.

“N-no…I-I…didn’t mean it like th-that…” I stammered desperate.

He began laughing and coughing at the same time which made him sound like a suffocating dog. Another sound could be heard in between these other two.

That sound was a laugh too.

_“Oh, wow. I didn’t think that you would confess your love for him now! Who’ll be your best man? You don’t want to put Cubbins in a tuxedo, or do you? That would only drive away your guests. Can I name your children? Or at least be their godfather?”_ He laughed again. I looked past the opened living room door into the kitchen.

There it stood the skull in the silver jar. The plasma had taken the shape of a face and otherwise whirled through the jar.

“ _What do you think about Winston, Melinda and Geronimo? Or do you rather like something foreign like Manfred, Gertrude and Horst?”_ The plasma whirled around even more.

“Shut up!” I hissed with my head still dark red from blushing.

_“You don’t like that? Then what about Helga, Norbert or Ulbrecht?”_ I angrily threw my spoon in its direction.

_“So bad, try again! Why don’t you use this paperweight made out of marble, that’s standing there on the cupboard? Maybe you’ll hit the jar, break the glass and let me be free!”_

Since when did we own a paperweight? Anyways, I didn’t choose to do it and instead focussed on ignoring the skull.

“What did he say?” Lockwood had calmed down but there was still a self-pleasant smile on his face.

“You don’t want to know,” I mumbled. The whole situation was embarrassing for me, now that my anger had decreased a tiny bit.

Damn, Lockwood was my boss! I shouldn’t even dream about it. Should. I couldn’t deny that Lockwood didn’t look that bad. His dark hair and eyes, his wide smile and his narrow face, probably made him the ideal boy for some girls. But was he that for me?

I frantically shook my head to be freed from these thoughts. The results of that were that my headache became stronger and that I started feeling somewhat dizzy.

  


There I was: shuddering, with a stuffed nose and a headache covered with a blanket on a sofa and believing that I had never felt that bad. I was in a state of semi-consciousness. I didn’t really realize the things happening around me. I could hear the noise around me (Lockwood’s coughing and my own breath) but they somehow didn’t get to my brain. It was as if you were listening to a very boring presentation about the life of a mayfly. It went into one ear and out of another one.

I was about to fall asleep when the cushions moved a little downwards. Surprised I looked up but I could only see the back of the sofa. With the last of my powers I turned my head around to look right into Lockwood’s face, which was hovering only a few inches from my nose.

“Wha-what are you doing?” I wanted to know, trying to not let my voice crack down. It somehow didn’t work, for whatever reason. No, instead blood flooded into my cheeks.

“I thought about it: you said you’re cold and I`m hot. That should neutralize each other, or?” he gave me a smile. And not any smile. It was that smile that let you forget everything and made you feel safe, no matter what happened. I loved that smile.

That was probably the reason why I didn’t say anything. Under normal circumstances I would have laughed at him and told him how absurd this all was. As said, under normal circumstances.

But I also couldn’t stare at him all the time. So I turned around on my left side with my back turned to him.

Then, without warning me, Lockwood put an arm around me. I became stiff for a second and probably even held my breath. My cheeks surely were as red as a signal lamp and my heartbeat felt as if it had become ten times faster.

Why didn’t I do anything? It would have been so easy to get up and scream at him, what in god’s name he was doing. But I was still lying there, with the blood rustling in my ears.

At first I didn’t know why, but then it hit me like lightning: it wasn’t uncomfortable. Well, it was a little strange lying on the sofa with Lockwood hugging me, but it didn’t feel repulsive or uncomfortable. It was rather the opposite: I felt well and protected, as if a wish had been fulfilled. Without realizing it I relaxed. Lockwood pulled me closer, until my back touched his chest.

“And, are you feeling warm now?” he asked me in a whispery voice. My neck tingled whenever his warm breath touched my skin. I nodded weakly. I definitely didn’t feel cold anymore. A calming feeling, accompanied by a comfortable heat flooded through my body, from my hair tips to my toes.

“Good,” he mumbled quietly and I felt how he dug his face into my hair. I smiled and then I sighed and closed my eyes.

What George must have thought that morning when he had walked past us on his way to the kitchen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was the last chapter.  
> Honestly, everytime I read it (no matter in wich language) I want to cringe and fangirl at the same time. I'm not into fluff but Locklyle is one of my few OTPs and so somehow this story endet like this. Well, I couldn't help myself.  
> But if you liked it, I'm very glad!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoied it!


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